


Bergamot and Spice

by cleo (miri_cleo)



Category: The West Wing
Genre: F/F, Femslash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-21
Updated: 2009-07-21
Packaged: 2017-10-02 11:04:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miri_cleo/pseuds/cleo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>CJ finds herself in a dressing room situation with the First Lady.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bergamot and Spice

**Author's Note:**

> Abbey/CJ, dress shopping (for femslash_today’s porn battle).
> 
> I don't own them.

CJ stood outside the dressing room door with several hangers of dresses dangling from her fingers. She hesitated before knocking.

“Ma’am, I’m not exactly sure why you...”

“Help me unzip this, Claudia Jean.” The door opened a crack, and before she knew it, CJ was being pulled in. She hung the dresses on a hook and faced Abbey Bartlet’s back in a burgundy gown.

CJ’s first thought was that the first lady had to have gotten it zipped somehow. “As I was saying, ma’am,” she began again as she pulled the zipper down slowly so as not to snag the fabric, “I’m not exactly sure why you needed me to...”

“Abbey. You can call me Abbey, CJ,” she said briskly as she stepped out of the dress. “We are two women in a rather large dressing room with at least thirty dresses that are going to look terrible on me; I don’t need you to call me ‘ma’am’ for this experience.”

CJ averted her eyes, but she could very clearly see Abbey’s breasts in the mirror. She had seen the first lady in countless gowns. In fact, CJ was surprised that she could remember each and every one of them, but she quickly attributed that to questions from the press. Questions from the press, however, were not keeping her eyes on the reflection of Abbey’s naked chest.

The fact that Abbey had an ample bosom hadn’t escaped the notice of anyone who worked in the West Wing, especially on black tie occasions. But CJ was struck by just how firm her breasts seemed. She felt like she was looking at a statue or a painting or some other clichéd image of womanhood...except that Abbey was real, very real.

“Claudia Jean,” Abbey said, eyebrows raised as she caught CJ’s gaze in the mirror, “are you staring at my breasts?”

A hysterical laugh escaped CJ’s lips before she could stop herself. “What? No, ma’am...yes, yes, ma’am...”

“Abbey.” CJ watched helplessly as she took another dress from a hanger. This one was aubergine, and CJ knew it would go well with Abbey’s skin. “The fact is, CJ, that I don’t like personal shoppers, and I’m tired of being shoved into strapless gowns by designers with some sort of agenda. Don’t you ever just want to...get out...be normal again?”

CJ watched as Abbey zipped the dress up to her hips, and without prompting, she stepped forward to finish. “I actually get out quite a lot, ma’am. And while I’m not sure if we have the same definitions of normal, I suspect I see the inside of more dressing rooms than you have since your husband took office.”

The First Lady put her hands on her hips and smirked as she turned around. CJ had been lingering behind her, but now they were face to face and closer for it. “Claudia Jean, what do I have to do to get you to stop calling me ‘ma’am’?”

CJ could think of quite a few things, and they all involved Abbey’s lips—her boss’ wife’s lips. It was absolutely crazy, and for something that she had never even considered, it was now the only thing on her mind. “I really couldn’t say.”

“Good. I won’t ask again,” Abbey whispered before kissing CJ softly.

Oh, God. CJ felt herself giving into the kiss easily, and it took all her will to pull away from Abbey’s soft lips. “Mrs. Bartlet, I don’t think...”

“Then don’t think, CJ. This is right now, right here.”

So she didn’t think. And it was ridiculous. It was ridiculous because she was in a dressing room with the President’s wife, who was now unzipping her dress and letting it fall to the floor. CJ swallowed hard before running her fingers up Abbey’s sides. While the room was cool, she did not think for a moment that that was the reason Abbey’s nipples were hard, and CJ did not try to stop herself from touching them, rolling them between her fingers.

“That wasn’t so hard.” Abbey was smiling, and CJ was wondering why she had never noticed just how smoky the First Lady’s voice really was. She wanted to hear her moan, and she realized that she was moaning softly for it as Abbey started unzipping her skirt.

It wasn’t nearly as hard as it should have been to kiss Abbey again, to kiss her jaw and down her neck. CJ had never noticed her perfume, but now she breathed bergamot and spice as she tasted Abbey’s skin. She stepped out of her own skirt much too easily and dipped her head, taking one of Abbey’s nipples between her teeth.

CJ felt Abbey shudder when she flicked her tongue over it. The dressing room seemed too small them, and CJ knew she looked ridiculous bending that way. But she moved to the other breast, teasing the nipple just the same. Abbey’s fingers in her hair made her moan and realize just how wet she already was.

Abbey was pulling her backwards, and CJ folded to her knees when Abbey sat in one of the ridiculously high backed, boutique dressing room chairs. Bergamot was not what she smelled when she ran her hands firmly up Abbey’s thighs, and the President was far from her thoughts.

There was something about Abbey Bartlet that suggested lacy black panties, but CJ only realized that when she was unsurprised by them as she inched them down Abbey’s legs. Wordlessly, she pressed her fingers through Abbey’s coarse curls, and when she flicked her eyes upwards, she could see Abbey’s mouth open as she scraped her thumbnails over her own nipples. CJ let out a shaky breath, but it felt cool against the heat of Abbey’s pussy. She ran her tongue between Abbey’s lips and up, moaning into the hot skin and stopping to nip Abbey’s clit.

“CJ...” Abbey’s voice was breathy, and as CJ began to work her tongue against her clit, she felt Abbey’s hand on her head. “CJ,” she moaned, much too loudly for a public place.

CJ pressed two fingers into Abbey and curled them towards herself eagerly. She gulped in a breath and continued, pushing forward with her fingers, eager to feel Abbey coming.

“CJ...CJ, are you alright?”

She blinked and licked her lips, tasting only the wax of her lipstick as she looked into the First Lady’s concerned eyes. “I...I’m sorry, what were you saying?”

“I was saying that you don’t need to call me ma’am while we’re in this dressing room. I need a friend, CJ...someone to tell me when a dress looks like crap. Anyone who calls me ma’am isn’t going to do that.”

CJ blinked and rubbed her forehead as she tried to look anywhere but straight in front of her. “Don’t bother with the aubergine one,” she said quickly, tossing the dress over the door and quickly handing Abbey another as she wished she had never seen the First Lady undressed in the first place.


End file.
